Johnlock Oneshots
by 5typesoftrash
Summary: Just a bunch of oneshots. Fluffy, depressing, angsty, whatever. You name it, I got it. There will be trigger warnings and shit, so I made an exception to my rule that M is just for lemons and made this M. If you don't want spoilers, you shouldn't read fanfiction. I take no responsibility for your being spoiled.
1. Seperate Ways (Worlds Apart) Songfic

**I am total trash for some '80s and '90s music, so this is a songfic for one of my absolute favorite Journey songs.**

* * *

The tall man leaned against the hood of the blue car in the underground parking lot. He wasn't ever going to get anywhere… he might as well give up trying.

"Oh, John," he whispered. "I do love you." He stared at his shoes for a while longer until he heard the first few notes of a synthetic keyboard being played. He reached into the car and turned up the radio.

 _Here we stand  
Worlds apart, hearts broken in two  
Two  
Two  
Sleepless nights  
Losing ground I'm reaching for you  
You  
You_

 _Feeling that it's gone  
Can change your mind  
If we can't go on  
To survive the tide, love divides_

 _Someday, love will find you  
Break those chains that bind you  
One night will remind you  
How we touched and went our separate ways  
If he ever hurts you  
True love won't desert you  
You know I still love you  
How we touched and went our separate ways_

 _Troubled times  
Caught between confusion and pain  
Pain  
Pain  
Distant eyes  
Promises we made were in vain  
In vain  
In vain_

 _If you must go  
I wish you well  
You'll never walk alone  
Take care, my love  
Miss you, love_

 _Someday love will find you  
Break those chains that bind you  
One night will remind you  
How we touched and went our separate ways  
If he ever hurts you  
True love won't desert you  
You know I still love you  
How we touched and went our separate ways…_

The song continued, but he turned it down, so he didn't have to listen to it. He wasn't sure why he'd started listening to such a sad song in the first. It was only when he glanced up that he realized that someone else was in the parking lot near him, staring at him. He looked up sharply. "What are you doing here, John?"

"Someone told me that a man broke my best friend's heart, so I'm here to help him get through it."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes." John took a couple steps closer, an interesting expression creeping across his face. Seemingly out of the blue, he whispered, "are you gay?" Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Sherlock nodded. "Why did you never tell me?" Sherlock didn't answer that.

"Why was I listening to that song? It just made everything worse. It's just a sad song about a man who's lover left him and he's acting like he can't do anything about it. He can't change anything, he can't move on."

"The way I see it, it's a hopeful song: the man loves the person, and is trying to let him or her know that no matter how many times he or she breaks his heart, he will never stop loving him or her." John was far too close to him now. He was a little scared. "John, what are you-" He was cut off by John's lips. "I love you, Sherlock. Don't ever doubt that," he whispered when they parted. "John," Sherlock whispered.

"Yes?"

"Kiss me again."

* * *

 **And there is your daily dose of fluff.**

 **The next chapter will be depressing.**

 **Be prepared.**

 **It's basically my life story of depression in four minutes of reading.**

 **Oh, my god. The next episode for me is the Reichenbach Fall. Which I know too much about from reading too much Johnlock. Which is making me want to die rn.**

 **Shit.**

 **Love you guys!  
Allie**


	2. The Depressing Suicide Chapter

**Ok, this one is super depressing and basically my life story of depression, and, on top of that, it's every cutting/depression-related oneshot I've ever written. But Johnlock.**

 **You'll hate it.**

 **It's amazing.**

 **Please read it.**

* * *

He was right on the edge. He was so ready to just fall. He calculated it carefully. He could take one step and it would all be over. However, he knew he wouldn't. It wasn't a part of his plan. He looked down over the edge at the body below. He might as well solve this case while he was still alive. He was going to die anyway. He looked over at John. How he wished he could tell John his feelings… that also had a place in his plan. "Doctor Watson, where are we at?" John gave him a report on the body on the pavement, very detailed, he was sure, but he didn't hear a word of it. For once, he was indulging himself. He just watched John's eyes, how they sparkled and danced, and he watched how his face lit up when he was talking about something he knew about. Sherlock almost wanted to live, just to kiss those perfect lips, he was almost prepared to discard his plan, just to tell John "I love you" every day forever, but he couldn't. Everything was laid out, and his life was shit anyway. John finished talking, and he gave a quiet, "hmm" before moving away from the ledge. Thirty seconds later, he was beside his flatmate, best friend and secret crush. He hailed a cab and indicated for John to get in. "221B Baker Street," he told the cabbie, and off they went. He stared out the window the whole time so as to avoid conversation with John, but he wasn't looking at the scenery, nor was he seeing it. He was compartmentalizing every memory of John that he had in a special room in his mind palace that was dedicated to nothing else. And in the very front, each separate moment when he had been watching his face. His eyes, his lips, his smile, his awkward hand motions, every aspect of John was hidden in this room in his mind palace.

When they arrived at the flat, Sherlock sat down in a chair and pressed his palms together, bringing his fingertips to his chin. Not fifteen seconds later, he dropped his hands, looked at John with a perfectly straight face and said, "John, I'm bored. Let's do something fun."

"You have a case."

"I'm never going to finish this case."

"Why not?"

"It's complicated." John opened his mouth to say something else, but Sherlock continued quickly, "let's do something different, something exciting. I have an idea. Come on." He stood up and tossed John his coat before donning his own. They walked out of the flat and Mrs. Hudson looked at them strangely as they passed her in the hall. "Didn't you two just get in?"

"We're going out, Mrs. Hudson." He looked at her fondly. "You do know I adore you, right?" He grabbed the sides of her shoulders and kissed her cheek, then strode confidently out the door with Watson at his heel, leaving Mrs. Hudson to stare after him in bewilderment, gently touching her cheek where he'd kissed her.

[john pov is guuda]

John was starting to wonder if Sherlock had lost his mind. This was only furthered by the fact that he hadn't the faintest where they were going. He stalked after him on the street, never pausing for anything. Sherlock said nothing at all, which frightened John a little, as he was not one to pass up an opportunity to demonstrate his massive intellect and understanding of the world, besides the fact that John was 90% sure that he greatly enjoyed talking. After about twenty minutes of walking, Sherlock finally said something. "If I died, would you miss me?" It was entirely out of nowhere, and it caught John completely by surprise. "Sherl, you're my… best friend. Yeah, I'd miss you. I'd miss you a lot."

"I'm glad to know someone would."

"What?"

"If I committed suicide, would you hate yourself?"

"What reason would I have to- yes. Yes, I think I would. Sherlock, where are we going?"

"To kill me."

* * *

Even Sherlock was surprised at how careless he sounded (and even more so by how careless he _felt_ ) when he said it to John. He nonchalantly admitted that he was about to commit suicide and he _didn't even care_. John just stared at him. He turned and walked away, all the guilt and depression suddenly overtaking him like a wave. But this time, he was pulled too far under. He couldn't find the surface, and he was going to drown. **(I've felt this only once before, and it was my worst episode ever. This is really the only way I can describe it. I was fine, but then I thought about something and it brought back all these other things and then suddenly I was cutting in my bathroom. It was a terrible experience)** The only person who could save him, his lifeguard, had been rendered incapable of doing so. It occurred to him that that had been what he wanted. That was his motive. When a person wants to die, they will do anything in their power to get there. And he had gone to the limits. John couldn't save him. But he could save John. He looked up. They had arrived. John had just walked behind him in silence. Both men had silent tears streaming down their faces, for different reasons. All of Sherlock's experiences, all of his failures and endeavors and everything before John hit him like a brick wall, leaving him in pain with all the wind knocked out of him. He fell into John's arms and looked up at him. He was so beautiful. And Sherlock was repulsive. How John tolerated him was about the only mystery he _couldn't_ solve. "John…"

"Sherlock, I'm not going to let you die. Not again. Not after… not after Reichenbach."

"John… I love you."

"What?"

"I love you." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist and kissed him. John was quick to respond, snaking his own arms around Sherlock's neck. They stood on the sidewalk by Albert Bridge **(did some research. Albert Bridge has the like, cable things, which is important later)** snogging for a long while. John was disappointed but not surprised when Sherlock pulled away and turned so that John couldn't see his tears. He began to climb the cables on the bridge up to the top of the main supports. "Sherlock!" John yelled as soon as he gathered his wits. "What in God's name are you doing?"

"Committing suicide. Isn't that what I told you I was doing?"

"Sherlock, I can't let you. I'll save you again."

"John." His voice was stern and firm. He wouldn't budge. It made John look straight into his eyes, unblinking. "You can only save those who want to be saved. And I…" he took a deep, shuddering breath, "don't. I love you, John. But I have nothing left. Just don't forget me."

"Never." John still couldn't tear his eyes away from Sherlock's, and he could tell the detective was reluctant to look away as well. When he finally did, he climbed all the way up, ignoring all of John's yells. When he reached the top, he spread his arms wide, just as he had before, only this time, he was so much higher, and this time, he'd hit solid water, and this time, John couldn't do _anything._ He had to stand there and watch. He fell forward slowly, but as soon as his feet left the pole it was sped up. He hit the water in a matter of seconds. There was no way for him to survive. The odds were that he died the second he hit the water, but there was a small chance that he was still alive and he was drowning. Either way, John was guilty, because he hadn't been able to save the man he loved.

* * *

 **How much did you hate it?**

 **Was it good?**

 **Did you like it?**

 **That would be kinda cool, considering the fact that it's basically about how** ** _I_** **tried to kill myself, not Mr. Holmes.**

 **But yeah, if you like it… I thought it was a kind of convincing plot, it sort of seemed to fit into the fandom and everything.**

 **But if you liked it, please review and tell me what I did well.**

 **Also, should I make it into a story? Because I'm going back and forth. If so, I already have a plot so I'd basically get it started right away…**

 **Idk.**

 **Let me know.**

 **I love you all.  
Allie **


	3. I'd Be Lost Without My Blogger

**Ok.**

 **Just a cute fluffy oneshot for no reason.**

 **Because I was looking up "I'd be lost without my blogger" and I had an idea and naturally, I had to write it.**

[I'D BE LOST WITHOUT MY FUCKING BLOGGER]

The buzzer went off. "Package for Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes, I'll be right down." Sherlock stood up and went down the steps to the front door **(btw, I hope this is accurate… I don't know much about the whole "buzzer" thing. Is that just in England? Well, what I mean to say is, is that** ** _not_** **a thing they do in America? Because I've never seen it irl, only in Sherlock and Shaun of the Dead)**. He opened the door and signed for the small box, then took it from him. "Thank you, sir. Good day." He shut the door and ran back to the flat.

When he got back, he grabbed the first sharp thing he saw - his keys - and broke the tape. He opened the box and admired the package. He didn't stop to think what the consequences would be, in true Sherlock style. He didn't even wonder, "what if?"

[omggggggggggggggggg]

John was two minutes away from the flat when Sherlock texted him. _Go to the store. We need milk._ He rolled his eyes but told the taxi driver to go to the nearest grocery store while typing a reply. _Anything else we need?_

 _Nicotine patches, please. My whole stash is gone._

 _Eat some bloody cold turkey, Sherlock, we agreed. I'll be home in about thirty minutes._ **(Ok. I** ** _almost_** **had enough restraint… not quite.**

 **"** **I HAVE BEEN FALLING… FOR THIRTY MINUTES!)**

He shut off his phone as the taxi pulled up in front of the store. He tipped the driver and got out. "Sherlock," he mumbled to himself, "whatever am I going to do with you?"

[DERE'S MOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE]

When John finally got home, Sherlock wasn't even there. "What the bloody hell-" he stopped when he saw the little piece of paper on the table. "The name's Sherlock Holmes," he read aloud. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Then he remembered something - the day they met, Sherlock had said, "the name's Sherlock Holmes…."

"'The address is 221B Baker Street!'" he exclaimed. "It's a puzzle!" He went out onto the front step and got a text.

 _This is my note. That's what people do, right? Leave a note?_

"When they do what…?" He hailed a taxi. "St. Bart's Hospital."

 **(Btw, srry these events aren't in chronological order. I tried to find something that would get him to St. Bart's other than Sherlock's suicide because the ultimate event took place** ** _before_** **Sherlock's suicide but… I couldn't. Sorry!)**

When he arrived, he tipped the driver and ran inside. He found Molly quickly, and she said, "Sherlock wants me to tell you…" she consulted something on her hand. "Here, just read it." She showed him what she had written down.

 _I'm being summoned. Coming?  
If you want me to._

"'Of course. I'd be lost without my blogger.' Oh, god Sherlock. You've got to be kidding me." He went back to 221B and found Sherlock sitting in the living room.

"I'd be lost without my blogger," he said, grinning. "John, this is for you."

"What?" Sherlock handed him a small box. "I love you." John took the box, his face alight. He opened it slowly and gasped at the sight of the object inside.

Sitting in the box, nestled in a layer of velvet, was a silver ring.

Engraved on the inside, going all the way around, it said, _I'd be lost without you._ On the outside, in curly letters, it said, _John, my love_. John stared at Sherlock. "Are you kidding me?"

"A promise ring."

"You are aware that the subtext of a promise ring is that there will be marriage involved later on, don't you?"

"Yes, I was aware of that." John slipped it on his finger and kissed his boyfriend. "I love you more than life, John," Sherlock said. "Obviously. You pitched yourself off a building," John reminded him, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, I'd thought we weren't ready to joke about that yet."

"You're never going to do it again, so I don't see why we couldn't."

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I love you so much."

"I love you too, Sherlock."

[fluff and shitttttttt]

 **I hope you liked this one. It's just something I thought of.**

 **I was inspired (obviously) by the line "I'd be lost without my blogger". That line makes me so happy.**

 **I rewatched "A Study in Pink" recently and noticed just** ** _how much_** **Johnlock is in that episode. It's really cool.**

 **I LOVE IT OMG.**

 **I was hoping I wouldn't fangirl.**

 **But I did.**

 **Except I'm in school and I screeched and now everyone's looking at me.**

 **UUUUUGHHHHHHHH**

 **Love,  
Allie**


	4. Soulmate AU

**Another Soulmate AU that I absolutely had to do because it was so amazing. Basically, everyone is born knowing the name of their soulmate, and the basic premise of this fic is this:**

 **Sherlock: Mycroft, do you have** ** _any_** **idea how many men are named John?**

 **Mycroft: do you really think 'Greg' is any easier to find?**

 **John: where am I supposed to find a man named** ** _Sherlock?_**

 **Lestrade: what the fuck kind of a name is 'Mycroft' anyway?**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

 **Once more, I rarely write Soulmate AUs, so if it sucks, blame it on my lack of experience.**

* * *

Sherlock paced the living room. "How am I supposed to find this man? He has like, the most common name _ever_."

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Um, _Greg_."

"Shut up, Mycroft, I'm trying to think."

"You're not going to be able to _plan_ to meet your soulmate. That's not how it works. You'll meet him eventually."

"Yes, but I like prepared." He dropped himself into a chair and folded his palms under his chin. "Sherlock, you know how it unnerves me when you do that."

"Yes, I do. Point?"

Mycroft raised his hands so they were level with his head. "Fine! I'll just go in there." He pointed to the adjacent room. He stood up and walked away. "John…" Sherlock muttered. "Fuck."

"Maybe if you think hard enough, you'll be able to think up his last name."

"Shut up Mycroft!"

"Just trying to help. Apparently, mine's named Lestrade."

" _What_?"

"Excuse me?"

"I know a man named Lestrade."

"You're kidding."

"He doesn't have a first name though…"

"I'm sure he does."

"You should go meet him." Sherlock said all of this without looking away from his fixed spot on the wall, hands still pressed together under his chin. "There is no way I'm going to meet my soulmate."

"He works at Scotland Yard. Just go there and ask for Detective Inspector Lestrade." Mycroft ignored him. "Sherlock, think hard. Can you imagine him? At least, can you imagine his last name? Come on, Sherlock, you'll never find your soulmate based just off of _John_."

"Shut up, Mycroft." Mycroft did as he was told. After about thirty-five minutes, Sherlock put his head in his hands. "Fuck!"

"What?"

"All I can get is the letter W. And the letter H."

"That's something to go on."

"No it's not, Mycroft! It's useless. It's more likely that this man is a figment of my imagination. I'm asex anyway."

"No, you're not. You and I both know that we are equally gay."

"Fine! But I'm still not going to go searching."

"Fine. It's your loss."

"Don't pretend that you're not as scared as I am to meet your soulmate."

"I'll have to at some point."

"That is true."

"So we're in agreement, then," Mycroft asked, "that you're not going to go off without me, and I'm not going to meet Greg without you?"

"Fine."

"I love you, brother dear."

"Fuck off, Mycroft."

* * *

John was sitting in a chair in his flat. Greg was sitting opposite him.

"What the fuck, Lestrade? Seriously, what the fuck?"

"I can't figure it out either."

"What. The _fuck_. Kind of a name. Is _Sherlock_?"

"Wait - Sherlock?"

"Yes. That's his name. Sherlock Holmes."

"Mine's Mycroft Holmes."

"So you're telling me-"

"Yes."

"Our bloody soulmates are _related_?"

"I guess it makes sense, I mean, they both have freakish first names."

"So true. But where am I supposed to find a man named Sherlock. Fucking. Holmes?"

"I don't know." Greg didn't want to tell him that he knew his soulmate. He worried it would interfere with the natural course of events. He rolled his eyes. "What am I going to do about his brother?"

"Brother?"

"I'm assuming. I don't know." _Smooth, Lestrade_.

John stood up. "Well, I have to go now, but please, Greg, make yourself at home. Have a cup of tea or whatever, watch crap telly, I just have to go to the store and get some milk." **(HELL YES YOU DO JOHN)** Lestrade nodded. "Great. Thanks, mate." John grabbed his coat and left the building.

70 hours later, he was standing in a room with a tall man with dark hair and more than his share of eccentricities. He still wasn't sure what to make of this potential flatmate. Until he walked out of the room and popped his head back in. "The name's Sherlock Holmes. The address is 221B Baker Street."

Soulmate.

Sherlock.

Holmes.

His soulmate.

His flatmate.

Sherlock.


End file.
